


i thought i could tame these memories to keep me company like a housecat

by earlgrey_milktea



Series: milktea's saso2017 fills [31]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Feels, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Nostalgia, Post-Break Up, Prompt Fill, relationships are hard, there's a cat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-08
Updated: 2017-07-08
Packaged: 2018-11-29 13:50:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11442213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/earlgrey_milktea/pseuds/earlgrey_milktea
Summary: So he stayed here, in a house that hasn’t been a home in a long time, with a cat that keeps looking out the window as if waiting for someone that isn’t coming home.takahiro and the empty house and lonely cat that issei left behind.





	i thought i could tame these memories to keep me company like a housecat

**Author's Note:**

> original prompt [here](http://sportsanime.dreamwidth.org/22341.html?thread=13638213#cmt13638213)
> 
>  _the playlist:_  
>  Song About You - Mayday  
> Song For You - Mayday (Japanese version)
> 
> title from track 1
> 
> i should have made this into a series with my previous matsuhana fill lmao feels all around

“Come here, Sora,” Takahiro says, hands outstretched as he kneels by his front door. The lazy white cat only gives him a blank stare before turning back to where he was nosing along the wall. Takahiro sighs. He was never meant to take care of anything else other than himself, but what was he to do? He couldn’t bear to be that person that throws out a harmless cat just because the reason the cat was adopted in the first place has upped and disappeared.

Maybe that’s why Sora is in a rebellious stage lately. He, like Takahiro, feels the coldness and emptiness of this house too loudly. They both know this house is just a hollow shell now, because Issei took  _ home  _ with him when he left.

 

 

 

 

(“Hey, ‘Hiro.”

“Yeah?”

“What do you think about cats?”

“... They’re cute? I guess?”

“You’re not allergic, right?”

“Are you seriously asking me that—”

“Not really, I know all your allergies. You’re allergic to wasps and a variety of nuts, for example, except for  _ deez nu _ —”

“Issei.”

“‘Hiro.”

“You want to... get a cat?”

“I was just thinking. Our place allows pets, and I’ve always wanted one since I was a kid. And we’re both settled in now, so I thought. But it’s fine if you don’t want to. There’s quite a few stray cats around anyway.”

“I don’t mind.”

“Really?”

“It’s just a cat, right? They’re pretty self-sufficient. It’d probably be harder for me to kill than the plants the neighbours got us.”

“Please don’t kill our cat before we even got one, ‘Hiro.”

“I wooon’t. Because you’re here.”

“That’s incredibly sweet, Takahiro. I’m going to have to kiss you now.”

“Be my guest, you dork.”)

 

 

 

 

Takahiro sits by the window, eyes trained on the night skies in the distance. Bright colours—orange, green, red, the occasional blue—reflect off the glass, and he can hear the cheers of people in the streets and on their balconies. Sora is nestled in his lap, all scrunched up to avoid the noise.

His glass of wine sits half full an arm’s reach away. His phone lies next to it, screen darkened after scrolling through all the obligatory confetti emojis and the stupid personalized emoticons that Oikawa convinced everyone to get. But those are fine. It’s the newest message, the one at the top from a contact whose name is still littered with heart icons that Takahiro forgot to change.

_ Happy new year, Hanamaki. _

No stickers, no emojis, not even an exclamation mark. Quiet, subtle, unintrusive. Easy to ignore if he wished to, but impossible to ignore because Takahiro is stupid and weak and Issei knows this.

“So I’m Hanamaki now,” he says to the fireworks, too far away to hear, too far away to care.

Sora burrows deeper against his legs. Takahiro pets his white fur absently. He breathes in, ignoring the chill in the darkened living room, and picks up the phone.

_ happy new year to you too matsukawa _

 

 

 

 

(“Where are we going?”

“No questions, Takahiro.”

“You know, kidnapping me right after school and not telling me where we’re going is highly suspicious behaviour, Issei. I should report you to the cops right now.”

“Okay, but then you’ll be missing out on the spectacular date I have planned for us.”

“Spectacular date, huh? What will you do if it doesn’t live up to that?”

“Are you doubting me, Takahiro?”

“Well, can’t say this hike is doing it for me right now.”

“Don’t you know that hiking is the height of romance right now.”

“You can’t fool me, I’m not Oikawa.”

“Okay, okay, we’re here.”

“Wh—How did you find this place?”

“Only the best for you, my darling.”

“Honey, you shouldn’t have.” 

“Come on. Put your bag down here, we have to get up that tree.”

“I never knew that dating involved this much physical exercise.”

“Why, would you rather be doing a different sort of exer—”

“Shut up.”

“As you wish, ‘Hiro.”)

 

 

 

 

Sora goes missing. Takahiro panics, calls into work and tells them someone died, calls his friends and nearly forgets his keys as he rushes out to find the cat.

“Sora!” he yells. His quiet neighbourhood stares back at him, no sign of a fluffy white cat in sight. He goes down every street he’s seen the cat loiter around, he checks every corner the stray cats congregate at. No one has seen the cat. It’s like he vanished into thin air, not a trace to be found.

Takahiro somehow makes his way back to his house, empty handed, catless. Something under his collarbone is quivering, so much so that he can barely remember how to breathe. He doesn’t make it through the gate, sliding down to his knees as he tries to blink away the burning behind his eyes.

He can’t lose Sora. Not now. Not after all this. 

It’s all he has left of Issei.

He’s already let go of Issei. He’s made peace with that. Sometimes, no matter how much you want something, you just can’t have it. So he let Issei go, like a shooting star that he was too slow to make a wish on. So he stayed here, in a house that hasn’t been a home in a long time, with a cat that keeps looking out the window as if waiting for someone that isn’t coming home.

“Don’t leave me alone,” Takahiro whispers, and the quivering in his chest explodes, like balloons floating away into the skies, fading out of sight, too fast, too far.

 

 

 

 

(“You have your passport and everything?”

“Yeah, I got it.”

“Call me when you get there.”

“Text me when you get home.”

“... Right. You... Good luck. You’re going to blow everyone away with how smart you are.”

“Flattery gets you nowhere, ‘Hiro.”

“Really, because I seem to recall it getting me into your pa—”

“Hey, no, we don’t want to end up putting a coin into Oikawa’s PDA jar, remember?”

“Pfft, he’s the one filling that up all by himself, the hypocrite.”

“Yeah, well.”

“Seriously, though. Remember to call your parents every so often.”

“Okay. And you... take care of yourself, yeah?”

“You, too, Issei.”

“I should go check in now.”

“Right. I—uh. Have a safe trip.”

“... Thanks.”)

 

 

 

 

“Makki?”

Takahiro freezes. He recognizes that voice. It comes to haunt him in dreams he wishes would go away like the warmth he misses almost painfully when he tosses and turns at night. He hasn’t heard it in so fucking long.

“Hanamaki. Are you okay?”

Issei hasn’t changed much. His hair’s gotten longer, he’s traded his old silver-wire frames for sleek black ones, but his clothes are still long and layered, his expression still quiet and effortlessly elegant. He’s so familiar, Takahiro  _ aches _ .

“What,” he manages, “are you doing here?”

Issei has the decency to look guilty. “I took some time off. My dad was saying he hasn’t seen me in ages, so.”

“Okay. But what are you doing  _ here _ ?”

“I don’t know,” says Issei, and his voice is muted in the way he does when he’s feeling exposed, when he’s still trying to sort through what he wants to say. “But I found him.”

Takahiro glances down into his hands, and there, purring contentedly, is Sora. He steps forwards, reaching out before he pulls back suddenly. 

“I’m sorry,” he says just as Issei says the same.

There’s a softness in Issei’s eyes that still makes Takahiro weak at the knees.

“Takahiro,” Issei says, and Takahiro wants to hit him, wants to yell at him,  _ Why did you come back? I thought you made up your mind. I thought we agreed to grow up, to let go. You were supposed to give me time and space to forget about you. You were supposed to let me let you go. _

“Sora,” Takahiro blurts out. “Sora’s probably hungry. Let’s... talk after that.”

“Okay,” Issei says, and he follows him home.

 

 

 

 

(“Hey, Issei.”

“Yeah?”

“What are we going to name the cat?”

“Do you have to ask this right now?”

“What better time than 2:34 am to figure out this important matter?”

“What do you suggest then?”

“Creampuff.”

“... I don’t know what I expected.”

“No, actually, that’s a bad idea. I’d just crave creampuffs every time I see the cat.”

“Oh, the horror.”

“Shut up, Issei. What are your suggestions, then?”

“Maybe go with the classics? The colour of the cat.”

“I thought I fell in love with a man of surprises. I’ve never been so disappointed.”

“Okay, fine, I’ll appeal to your tortured artist soul. Sora, then.”

“The sky?”

“Because the sky is infinite, which reflects my love for you, Takahiro.”

“...”

“Are you blushing? You’re blushing. You helpless romantic, you.”

“That’s not fair, Issei. Now the cat is really like our kid.”

“You better not kill it like that plant.”

“I said I wouldn’t!”

“Go to sleep, Takahiro. We’ll go to the shelter tomorrow.”

“‘Night.”

“Goodnight.”)

 

**Author's Note:**

> find me crying about mayday and matsuhana @puddingcatbae on tumblr/twitter


End file.
